


Footprints

by sunbreaksdown



Series: bend, don't break [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:23:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbreaksdown/pseuds/sunbreaksdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, here for the view?” Korra asks, grin forced, arms thrown up towards the darkness, when the silence persists. Maybe <i>Avatar</i> is all Lin's going to say to her, determined to remind her of what she is, rather than who. “Looking to apply for the role of <i>Avatar's metalbending bodyguard</i>?”</p><p>Lin actually laughs at that. Korra starts, as if someone's dropped a handful of gravel down the back of her shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Footprints

     Air Temple Island is becoming crowded enough to give Republic City a run for its money. Airbenders and Acolytes, White Lotus sentries, a swarm of children that seems to grow by the day (or so says Pema), two Fabulous Bending Brothers and one Avatar, which covers all the bending bases, earth, water and fire, wrapped up in the air. And Asami, who's just Asami, and, as much as it pains Korra to admit, _genuinely_ nice. Not nice in the watery, vapid way Korra was initially uptight enough to first assume, any actual personality substituted by money, but in a way that means they're hurtling towards friendship, and _of course_ she'll take her out for a spin on Naga.

     She's loved the bustle and rush of city life from day one, all the sights to see and rights to wrong, but there's something about being surrounded by the same group of people, the same constant thrum of conversation, that's finally getting to her. She's tired, but too restless to sleep. It won't last for more than an hour or two, Korra knows that, but there she is, stood at the shore, trying to relax. Trying to _be the leaf_. She's pulling at the air as she pushes at the waves, ordering the sea to settle down and smooth out.

     It sort of works, until her brain gets caught in a loop, thinking about how this affects the waves and the ripples further out. If she tugs at the surface here, maybe the sea will slip out from beneath a fishing boat; and like a tablecloth whipped from under the dinner things, everything will go flying, worse than any storm. Or else the whispering waves will blend with the wind, sending a quiet nod all the way to Katara.

     With a defeated sigh, Korra lets go of the water, taking a step backwards. In the grand scheme of things, little changes. She glances over her shoulder, up the path to the Air Temple, light still spilling from some windows. Jinora, Ikki and Meelo are probably sleeping by now, but Mako, Bolin and Asami should be awake. Probably roaming the halls, liable to walk into her at any moment, even if she tiptoes back to her room. 

     Korra turns back to the sea. Picks up a lose rock, throws it. Watches it skim once, twice, three times, before disappearing into the darkness; hears it scratch the surface once more, _clunk_. She walks along the shoreline, pressing her bare feet into her own footprints, toe to heel. In the distance, closer to the pier than she herself is, she sees a silhouette, and squints.

     Korra scrunches her face up when that still doesn't work, wishes there was some sort of _darkbending_ , so she could peel back the black and shed some light on the situation, and— _oh_ , right. Firebending. Her head's not in the game tonight. 

     With fire in her right hand, she gets a little closer, immediately stopping when the flames do their job. She curls her toes in the sand.

     “Hey,” she says, and nearly adds on _Chief_ , but manages to catch herself in time. The resignation's probably been submitted by now. Korra pauses, not certain how to address the former chief. She's never had any problem knowing how to speak to adults before – Tenzin is Tenzin, Pema is Pema – but nothing that comes to mind seems to work here. So she smiles weakly, and says, “—hi. How's it going?”

     “Avatar.” 

     A slight, stiff nod.

     Korra's fire throws shadows across Lin Beifong's face, dark triangles cut beneath her eyes, somehow making her seem more severe than ever. She's not dressed in her chief's armour, has some sort of forest-green earthbender robes on; the island must do something to bring out everyone's spirituality. 

     When Korra reaches her side, feet scuffing the prints of Lin's sandals in the sand, Lin continues walking with aimless intent. Hesitating for half a second, Korra decides that someone throwing themselves off a blimp to save another from certain death probably means that they're not _entirely_ averse to having them by their side, and hurries on to join her.

     “So, here for the view?” Korra asks, grin forced, arms thrown up towards the darkness, when the silence persists. Maybe _Avatar_ is all Lin's going to say to her, determined to remind her of what she is, rather than who. “Looking to apply for the role of _Avatar's metalbending bodyguard_?”

     Lin actually laughs at that. Korra starts, as if someone's dropped a handful of gravel down the back of her shirt.

     But still, Lin keeps her lips pursed together. Korra wonders if she ever smiles and doesn't immediately berate herself for doing so afterwards, and then wonders how to bring about such an event. She folds her arms across her chest, hums, and glances at Lin out of the corner of her eye as they continue to walk. She can't imagine Lin being here for Tenzin. Korra's gained a clearer picture of how things were between them, lately: two young friends who thought they were supposed to be together, and tried to ignore the fact that the strength of friendship doesn't automatically translate into something else.

     Perhaps it was something greater that drove them apart. The both lost an Avatar, a father and a friend, and there Korra is, a stark reminder of what Lin, and the world at large, has lost. She understands the cycle of life and death clearly enough, but sometimes, she can't help but feel as if she selfishly used up all of what Aang was to create herself.

     No wonder Lin has nothing to say to her.

     “No, seriously! The White Lotus guys are _great_ , but they just—” Korra gestures vaguely, wrists swinging, talking because the rift between them makes the wish-wash of the sea scratch at her ears, catch under her nails. “They're lacking that certain something, you know? I know they're my bodyguards, not my babysitters, but I keep on slipping' out of their grip.”

     No reply. Korra thinks she's going to have to say something more, and then, just when the topic's almost dissipated:

     “It's not my job to try chaining you down anymore, Avatar,” Lin says.

     “No, I didn't— _ow_.”

     Korra stubs her toe on a loose rock, cringes, and finds herself scratching the back of her neck, staring out to the side. _Be the leaf_ , she thinks. _Float on the breeze. Learn to shut the hell up._

     “I'm here to see you, actually,” Lin says, clicking her tongue. Like it had taken her a while to find the words.

     _Well, I didn't think you were here to see Pema._ Look at that, she manages to keep her comeback inside her skull, instead affording herself a few seconds to come up with an actual reply.

     “Oh.”

     Oh, she says, because that hadn't even occurred to her. If Lin had come back to see Asami, to pick at her brains, now that she's had time for the shock to start sinking in, it'd make a little sense. Maybe not at this time of night, but it's more logical than Lin Beifong actually _wanting_ to see her. Korra stops, suddenly, trying to recall if she's been responsible for any public property damage lately, and Lin turns to face her, brow raised.

     “What can I do for you—” not Chief, not Chief, “Lin?”

     It doesn't sound right. It doesn't feel, right, either, when she says it, and Lin frowns. But she doesn't object, and simply gestures for Korra to keep walking.

     “I don't actually know. Maybe I came here to think,” Lin says, and then _hah_ , like something's just slid its way back into place. “What are you doing out here, at this time of night?”

     “Thinking,” Korra answers honestly. Even though most people don't seem to believe she has a single thought in her head, fuelled by nothing more than too much misplaced energy and her own recklessness. Bend first, ask questions later. “But I gave myself too much space, started thinking _way_ too much, and went off the deep end.”

     Lin takes a few wide strides forward, hands clasped behind her back, before turning on the spot. Her sandals press Korra's backwards footprints flat. It was either her or the sea, Korra thinks, and scurries to keep up with her. Even an Avatar can trip over their own feet.

     “I'm not surprised. It must be murky in there.” Korra assumes that Lin's taking a jab at her intelligence, comparing her mind to a swamp, but before she has the time to do more than feign offence, Lin keeps on speaking. “With all the Avatars who have left their footprints before you.”

     Though Lin claims to have come to see Korra, Korra doesn't understand how she's of any use to her. They walk back along the beach, reach the pier, and take the natural path down it. Korra flops down, swishing her feet in the water to wash off the sand, and Lin steps out of her sandals, before lowering herself carefully next to Korra. 

     “Doesn't it feel weird? Not having the earth beneath your feet?” Korra asks as the pier creaks a little, and Lin sinks her feet into the water. Korra would have to be placed in a void before any of the elements were lost to her, and she can't quite picture how that would feel. Or how it wouldn't feel, rather.

     Lin splays her hands out on the pier behind her, leaning back, and says, “There are cliffs behind me. I could cause a rock slide as easily as I could blink.”

     And then she smirks a little, and Korra can only tell she does so because moonlight illuminates the edges of her expressions. It's as if it's something she would've done, back before she joined the police force; as if it's something she can do now, no longer bound by the limits of the law.

     They talk for a while, all the lights on Air Temple Island long since snuffed out, about everything that isn't important. Korra explains the official rules of pro-bending, something that she doubts Lin has any interest in, a little shaky on them, herself; she's still a beginner, after all. Lin asks about her earthbending, and how much pressure she can exert per pound of metal, though she most likely already gathered all of that information from Tenzin long before her arrival.

     However pointless it all is, they aren't talking about Amon. They aren't talking about the Equalists, or chi blockers, or Sato, or how his inventions are going to be wielded against them; Korra isn't being forced to remember the dreams she's trying to turn her back to tonight. 

     For a moment, there's not so much responsibility pressing down on her shoulders. Lin is a woman who knows how it feels to be held accountable, and Korra doesn't doubt there's any end to the things she could learn from her, if only they continue to get along when the sun rises. 

     She's not holding her breath.

     Korra pulls one leg out of the water, rests her heel against the pier and hugs her knee to her chest, looking up at Lin. There are two deep scars running along the side of her jaw, and Korra never fails to miss them. She's been in plenty of scrapes herself, but those cuts and bruises have been seen to by time and the healing techniques Katara passed down to her. She has a few scars littered across her torso, a record depicting the early days of her fire and earthbending tutelage, but those aren't the sort of stories that real scars are made of.

     She opens her mouth, about to ask Lin how she got hers, and quickly changes her mind. Some things are best saved for another night.

     Korra exhales heavily, letting the air shake around her lips. Her shoulders hunch up, then down, like a sluice gate, and with far too much obvious planning, she leans to the side, head on Lin's shoulder. The motion's far from natural. Lin was no doubt expecting it, but she tenses regardless, shoulder bone digging up against Korra's ear.

     Korra waits to be cast into the sea.

     Lin wraps an arm around her back, and says, into her hair, “You should sleep, Korra.”


End file.
